Entranced and Enthralled
by KounetsuDeb
Summary: Seven years have passed since the fall of Voldemort, many things have changed at Hogwarts and in it's Forbidden Forest. The forest is now inhabited by more than Unicorns, Centaurs, and dangerous beasts. YAOI/SLASH! Terry/Harry. Creature Harry!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter, in any way shape or form…unless you count the well worn copies on my bookshelf.

**Author's Note**: Wow, my first non-crossover Harry Potter story…It's almost intimidating. This story is written for Angenna for winning a contest of mine from months ago. I can only thank her for her patience with me as I tossed this back and forth for far too long.

Pairing: (Potion's Professor)Terry Boot/(Magical Creature)Harry Potter

* * *

Even years after the final battle of Hogwarts, not many were willing to venture into the Forbidden Forest on their own, especially after night had fallen and the moon had risen high up into the sky. This fear is reasonable and understood, the Forbidden Forest is home to many dangerous things that would be more than willing to kill the foolish wizard who would dare enter the darkened labyrinth of trees that were older than the castle it surrounded; There was one 'foolish' wizard however, who knew that in the light of the full moon was the best time to collect certain potion ingredients, and having them shipped to him from a distributor would not produce anywhere near as good of a potion for his students.

Ever since Severus Snape started working at Hogwarts as the resident Potions Master and Instructor, Hogwarts had been home to some of the best quality potions in the world. Now, years after the Potion Master had died, it was up to Terry Boot to keep up that honor. At 24 years of age, Terry had only been teaching at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for three years, but in that time his reputation as a capable, stern but fair teacher had earned the interest of his peers from around the globe.

Lowering himself into a thick patch of grass, he couldn't help but let his mind trail off however, even as his calloused, potion stained fingers carefully plucked thin stems of knotgrass that attempted to take refuge under the shade of an impossibly large tree. Three years had gone by since he had started working for Hogwarts, 4 1/2 since he received his Potions Mastery, and almost 7 years have passed since the presumed death of Harry Potter.

The Final Battle of the Second War did not take place at the Ministry of Magic, Hogsmeade, or even on the lush green lawns of Hogwarts. No, instead the final battle reminded Terry of articles he had read on Guerilla Warfare that was not uncommon in the jungles of certain distant countries. Terry could still remember running through the woods with Michael Corner at his heels, flinging disarming spells and stupfeys left and right in an attempt to bring down any of the enemy they stumbled upon as they tried to lead the younger years to safety after their Hogsmeade escape route had been compromised.

All at once though, the Death Eaters seemed to fall down in pain, screaming in agony as they clutched their arms. Some even went so far as to tear into their own skin, trying to rip of the mark of their Master as Voldemort drained them of their magic in a last desperate attempt to keep himself alive. The incredible build up of the Death Eater magic, along with the darkness of Voldemort's and the purity of Harry Potter's was far too much magic for one area to contain. Something triggered the explosion of magic, an explosion that seemed to be almost on the level of that of an atomic bomb. A good section of the Forbidden Forest had been destroyed, leaving a large crater in its wake.

As Terry stood from the grass and dusted off his pants, he picked up his basket of Knotgrass and walked deeper into the woods, unconsciously walking to where the last known spot of Harry Potter's life still stood. He was one of many who had mourned the loss of the Wizarding World's Savior, although perhaps not as openly as most. Many took to the streets, sobbing and wailing of their devotion to their hero, and Terry only showed his grief at the precarious edge of the crater that seemed to mirror the one in his chest.

Only Michael and Anthony Goldstein, Terry's two best friends in the world, had known about the flame he had carried for the Gryffindor. It wasn't until fourth year, when Terry had been sitting in the stands during the Third Task, staring down at the bloodied form of his year mate as he sobbed into the chest of the late Cedric Diggory did he realize he felt something more for Harry than pure student camaraderie. They had watched as Terry practically tore himself apart over 5th year, fighting with his emotions, and over the values he had been taught as a 'Muggleborn'. It was only once he had joined the DA that Terry finally learned to accept his feelings, and that it was alright to be not be logical...just for once.

Terry knew that Harry was plagued by nightmares of the night of Cedric's death, and that those nightmares only increased with the near loss of someone important to him that night Harry and a few of the higher ranking members of the DA went to the Ministry of Magic in an attempt to thwart Voldemort and his minions. It wasn't until after Harry's death and meeting the declared innocent Sirius Black he learned Harry nearly lost his godfather that night. Only Michael and Anthony, his two roommates knew of Terry's own nightmares, nightmares that only seemed to intensify after Harry's death.

Stepping once more to the familiar edge of the crater, Terry choked on the deep breath of air he took as he stared into the...once empty hole before him. It had been four months since Terry had come to the crater, the longest he had ever gone without visiting. At the time there had been nothing but dirt and stone in the bottom of the pit, now however, that had been replaced with an oak tree that had to be at least 15 feet in height. It was an impossible feat, even with the assistance of the wild magic of the Forbidden Forest.

Terry could remember sitting at home, listening to his Aunt Anice humming out in the garden as she attended her plants. She would tell him the properties of everything that seemed to grow green, at least, the Muggle aspect of it anyway. Oak trees represented courage and strength, of fidelity and fulfillment. His aunt had even mentioned that the Celts had believed oak served as a gateway between worlds, a passageway into the future or the unknown. Somehow, it seemed to be fitting.

He wasn't sure how long he remained at the edge of the pit, just staring at the oak as its branches swayed and danced in the breeze, bending but never breaking under the force. It was only when a hint of pink began to stretch across the heavens, signaling the start of a new day, did Terry return to the castle. He had potions to prepare, and the knotgrass wouldn't hold much longer.

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**Note: **This will be the first of most likely…three chapters if I had to guess right now. For now I'm not going to say what kind of magical creature Harry is, although you're more than welcome to guess. Please review and let me know what you think of my first purely Harry Potter story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter.

**Author's Note**: Well it seems like everyone seems to be enjoying the story so far, even though I had to laugh at some of them. It's kind of a double edged complement when someone says your story was better than what they were expecting after all. Most of you guessed right at what Harry is, and while it's not explained in this chapter, it should be in the next one. If it's not clear in the writing, a majority of this chapter is a dream.

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Standing in lush dark green grass, surrounded by tall majestic trees, Terry Boot knew that he could only be dreaming. He was confident that there had never been so much light in the Forbidden Forest in centuries, possibly not for thousands of years. The golden rays of the sun were almost blinding, making the forest just as treacherous as it was when it was as dark as a room full of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Terry could only stumble forward blindly, his hands out before him, shaking as he attempted to protect himself from possible low hanging branches and brush.

While his mind didn't seem to know where it was going, his feet certainly did. Every once in awhile Terry would get the idea to change direction, or go back the way he came, only to find that his feet wouldn't allow it. They seemed to have a mind of their own, and were very determined to take him deeper and deeper into the golden wood.

He wasn't sure what signaled the start of the music, it began as though he had stepped on a trigger, or possibly flipped some sort of switch; it was almost impossible to tell if the music was from an instrument, or from someone's angelic voice. It reminded Terry of soft ringing bells, of a delicate flute, and some kind of stringed instrument...possibly a harp.

Suddenly the forest seemed to fall back, stilling as though it dare not take one step further. The golden light seemed to fade, still ever there but settling from the blinding rays into a dim glow. The clearing was filled morning glories, bluebells, foxglove, irises, and marigold - flowers that would not naturally grow in the same place, nor bloom together while thriving in such splendor. In the center of the field that seemed to stretch further than could be possible, stood a majestic oak tree; an oak tree that towered over everything, and even though the height difference between the two was great, it reminded Terry strongly of the new tree that stood in the crater of the Forbidden Forest.

As he started across the clearing towards the tree, the music seemed to grow louder, the light filling the clearing seemed to flicker and fade to the point that it pained him. He felt as though something was pulling him back, hurting him and causing blinding tears to fill his eyes. The tree before him swam and blurred, only to sharpen again as visions passed before his mind; visions of sparkling deep green eyes, of hair darker than a raven's wing, and of skin so pale it seemed to glow with an inner light. He could tell now that the music was someone singing, singing with a voice so enchanting that a siren would hide her face in shame.

All at once Terry found himself at the base of the tree, not even two feet from where the trunk began. The trunk of the oak was just as amazing up close as it had been at a distance; it looked as though it had never been touched by man or creature, nothing marred it's rippling strong, and yet easily damaged skin.

"So you are the one who summoned us," Terry froze, not even taking a breath before he glanced up into the oak's thick branches, staring in awe at the deep green eyes that matched his vision...green eyes that had haunted his dreams for years.

"...Harry. Harry is that you?" Terry seemed to choke on his words, his voice far too harsh for the world his dream seemed to be in.

"We have not heard of this Harry, not if we remember correctly," The voice replied, before a body slipped down from the tree's high branches as though it were made of water. The body folded in upon itself as it landed bare inches from the tree's trunk, only unfolding as Terry seemed to breathe once more. It stood before Terry bare as the day it had been born, without any care for its visible flesh. "Nor is that our name."

The creature, for it couldn't possibly be human, was just a few inches over five feet tall. The being had long strands of dark hair tucked behind a slightly pointed ear, hair that looked as though it was silk, carefully woven in a loose braid that fell to caress the glowing bare skin of his back. A being, which was obviously male even with the almost feminine curve of his hips, and delicate legs that seemed to stretch on forever, a contradiction of his small frame. The thing that struck Terry (more than the male's nakedness) was the scar he could see on the being's forehead. The lightning bolt shaped scar was far lighter than he had ever seen it on Harry Potter, and Terry was a little surprised it even managed to catch his eye.

"...Our name?" Terry seemed to shake himself out of his bemusement, unable to take his eyes off the graceful creature.

"Yes. They have called me _Rulynreth_, and her _Saelar_," The being who was once the strongest wizard in the world smiled as he looked back at the enchanted oak. "Why did you call us here _Tiabrarhel_?"

"Ti-abra-rhel?" Terry stumbled over the name, his cheeks staining pink as the creature laughed at his attempt to say the name. "And I didn't call you...If I did it wasn't my intention."

"Are you sure? And yes, it fits you, Tia-brarh-el," The being-Harry-Rulynreth teased as it took a step towards Terry, causing his blush to deepen. "Even in this world we have heard your heart cry, its anguish over the loss of its love. It takes a powerful voice, and a powerful need to stretch from one world into another."

"We're in another world? What are you then?" Terry stopped, suddenly shamed of his brash questioning. "That is, if you don't mind my asking."

It was then that Rulynreth began to sing, his lilting voice far more beautiful than Terry had ever heard before that night, and clearly the source of the singing he heard earlier.

_"Among ten thousand trees_

_She flies to cover_

_At step of a lover,_

_And where to find her lovely face_

_Only the woodland bees ever discover"_

Rulynreth laughed in delight at the confusion that was easily read from Terry's tired face as he stepped forward to cup Terry's stubble laden cheek with delicate hands that had surely never seen a day's work.

"Come to me, _Tiabrarhel_. Come to me when you are ready to find me. My beloved."

* * *

Terry sat up from his sheets with a gasp and a sharp cry of despair, his body covered in a cold sweat that made the scratchy cotton of the blankets all the more uncomfortable. He could still feel the silken touch Har-Rulynreth's hand upon his cheek, the warmth from the lithe body that stood not even an inch from his own. Even though it was only a few seconds prior, Terry knew the ache in his heart, the longing he felt for Rulynreth was stronger than anything he had ever felt in his life. It was in that moment that he remembered another verse of the poem the being had quoted.

_"Yet were there thrice ten thousand trees_

_To hide her face from me,_  
_Not all her fleeing_  
_Should 'scape my seeing,_  
_Nor all her ambushed sorceries_  
_Secure concealment be_  
_For her bright being."_

Somehow, Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World…had become a dryad.

* * *

I love using flower symbolism. Oh yes, I certainly do.

The poem quoted in this chapter is called "The Dryad" and is written by Richard Le Gallienne

Name Meanings according to an Elvish name translator I found:

Rulynreth: Ru = Dream, Lyn = Bolt/Ray, Reth = Arcane

Saelar: Sae = Wood, Lar = Shine

Tiabrarhel: Tia = magic, Brar = Craft/Crafter, Hel = Brother/Sibling


End file.
